Eternity and Presence
There is a place not a place
And a time not a time
Where the end is the beginning
And the back is the face
What is, no reason or rhyme
Can tell you, brimming
With secrets untold
For the young and the old.
Is it a place or a name?
Or the One un-named?
A number or an endless flame?
For the near yet infinite far?
Is it wide beyond the horizons
Of horizons unborn?
Or here in the present heart
Of the beloved come to be seen?
When the stones of the hill
Foundation of life and fate
Will rise to the holy diadem
The pinnacle of dreams fulfilled,
Will the four be eight!
And the first, last and then
And all the multi-verse
Will sound “Amen!”
Can your intellect now truly assess who the ambient music poem will bless?
The Eightfold Moment Poem
When as above so below
Then as within so is without
And as for you so is for me
And as for now, eternity.
When I see you and you see me,
Eye to eye and face to face
As before is as will be
And all is here in one embrace.
What sort of person would not
Walk a lifetime
To hear the Master’s Name?
Shards of Sun on a
A thousand shards of gleaming light
Flash upon the floor of leaves
Upon velvet coats of moss, green
With the color of enduring life
In a thousand crystal faces cleaves
The forest vision dark, as the bright
Noonday sun is fractured by the trees.
Shaking, the wind blows the canopy
Where armored creatures arrayed
Like warriors fragile to the touch
On beating wings they dart and flee
Here the hidden children stay
Undoubtedly annoyed so much
Yet unwilling to renounce their play.
A thousands streams so many gleams
Droplets scattered through the air
On leaping hearts of little lives
The ancient one awakes and dreams
The vision dazzles now aware
A thousand shards a thousand eyes
"No one here!" the forest silently replies
The children dance within the space
Before strolling on their way
Ants a tossed off crust deface
So much to do before the end of day
the ambient music poem conspires
to free the heart of unholy desires
Firetree music burning flame
Will enlightenment for you attain.
Textures: Life In Sensate
Sound of thought, sound of feeling
Ever present world surrounding
Joys of endless life infinite forms
Sorrow pain love loss exultation
Wisdom unequalled with the babble
Of a six month babe
Threads woven each as fine
A gossamer spider's web
Our lives like beads of dew
Strung together embroidery
On the tapestry of the world
Any wonder, then, that I wait for
Your daily call
You civilizing substance, shining malleable
Conquering others, bent to our will
Shortening life and creating tools to save
Banging crushing chiming shining lovely
Your advance is the march of our kind
And our undoing too
A music poem is only true
If it basks in early morning's dew!
I long for a simple life
Under a canopy of leaves
Surrounded by trees, wood
To be gathered, fashioned
In to rough implements
Clacking rhythms at night
Insects singing in darkness
A spirit touches me old as time
But I am not there, just occasionally.
The Shepherd's Tale
I drove my flock over the hills
And up through the mountain pass
To the high valley silent and still
With the sky filled lake and soft green grass.
The craggy peaks surround this place
The lake a mirror blue and white
It brings joy to my tired face
So safe I do not fear the night.
Towards afternoon I saw some birds
Sounds I heard from all around
A voice singing strange old words
I did not know with strange old sounds.
Images moved on the crystal blue
Reflecting here the blazing light,
Signs of the prophet speaking true
Shimmering birds in true winged flight.
A pair of doves alighted near
Upon a stone, straight from the sky
The sound they spoke warbled, clear
And suddenly I began to cry.
Was it sadness or joyous glee
I could not say for certain
My heart was locked a mystery
A chamber hid behind a curtain
I thought of my bride so lovely
In whose embrace I long to be
Yet, I felt a deep contentment
The rush of rivers flowing
The heavens broke through in a moment
As above so below in secret knowing!
I saw my Father’s grave, just filled
Was it his voice I heard?
Or the voice of the mountains thrilled
By the vibration of the primordial word,
Or the voice of the sky sacred blue
Or the voice of my beloved true?
I sat as the sky darkened
My flock gathered in against the chill
Lost in feeling I hearkened...
The vision came from where it willed.
Here on the wings of evening,
Here at the close of day,
Here the starry sky expanding,
Radiant the milky way.
Here a humble shepherd sleeping
hear, now, hear me pray!
Among the sheep a soul ascending
In their radiance I play.
Vibrations shake me true and strong
The wind sings the ambient music poem song
A Pilgrim in the Chambers of Heaven
When you open your heart and close your eyes
When the stirring begins and the fires rise
When the words pour from your open lips
When the letters tumble and transform
Growing in meaning and evolving in form
Sent on the currents like deep laden ships
The chambers of heaven will welcome your face
Each chamber luminous, found in its place
Each will show you the world and show you the way
To see that reality is but interplay
A fragment of a dialogue in the heart of the One
Enunciated before time is begun
The First is the Chamber of the Sapphire Brick,
The pain of enslavement and the joy of freedom,
Light and dark, day and night eternally
Chasing each other in myriad phases
As the moon shines and sun blazes
Made one by the Creator's will
The Second is the Chamber of the Essence of Sky
Here is the light of the inner face
The alphabet of small letters swirls in circles
Lifting you to the tower where you may gaze
On those who proclaim "Holy!"and "Blessed"
The Third is the Chamber of Brightness
Where things are transformed and re-configured
In endless possibilities forever new
The pounding of war, the planting of the seed
The ill rise from their sick beds
Deliverance arrives in joy
The Fourth is the Chamber of Judgment,
Where your words are weighed,
Where your heart must beat true
Where the infinite mind
Touches each atom of being
And decides all destinies
In the tribunal of the seventy
The fifth is the Chamber of Love
Where the line of light touches home
Where the sleepers awaken, and the sparks arise
Where the law of life is the eternal kiss
Where redemption becomes endless bliss
Where oneness is spoken and heard
The sixth is the Chamber of Desire
Where truth is established
The music poem is ever present
The slaves go free, while the arrogant fade
The waters stand solid, the beloved pass through
Boundaries and limits are washed away
As the mighty fall low in ambient music waves
And the downtrodden rise to the heights.
Waiting for the Harvest:
A Firetree Music Poem
The storm cloud has passed over head
The soft spring sun shimmers in the east
We eat the newly ripe barley corns
In quiet repose we take our feast
The same food as our wordless beasts
We labor hurriedly, cutting and binding
The dust rises hot the eyes blinding
I hear my ox breathe heavy breaths
Seven is the number
Of the dream in endless slumber
Seven times seven, we entreat
As we await the harvest of the wheat
The earth opens in a moment
Of clarity and vision
We are not the first to hunger here
To labor and stave off fear
Or smile in satisfied contentment
Or take up fateful decisions
Lives and lives upon lives have lived
Their labors bound up in this harvest corn
Our old wheat is gone now, hence the dread
But who will speak for the dead?
New wheat is here, but unripe still
Human and beast as one live and fall
In cycles unending, bound in tragic will
Come I will touch your forgotten love
I will tell your tales in the earth above
The tools are sharpened, sickle scythe
And the smaller hand held knife
The clanging of blades metallic tone
The grinding of blade on stone
The blades cut clean, the stalks embraced
Bundled and bound in an act of grace
Is it a cut that severs? Or that heals
Lives upon lives meet me here.
Can you rise into my hand
Without being cut from where you stand?
The village fool at the side of the road,
Not a fool but completely mad
Carries such a heavy load
His back is bent his fingers cold
Along time past when he, a lad
Saw the demon of the ripe full moon
And the pestilence that walks at noon
Demons are but messengers arriving
From the honest truth, that all our striving
Is a leaf floating on an endless sea
The truth cannot be denied, its bitter taste
Is made sweet through the fools embrace
And sanity is cleansed for you and me
For every drop of summer dew
That materializes on the leaves
For every soft springtime drop
That falls unnoticed on the sheaves
A ray of light is shines anew
A passage opens. One can’t stop
The stream of life from coming through
To see the world with newborn eyes
I sing you ancient lullabies.
Tight is the passage, narrow the way
Conflicts between old and new
Are the order of the day.
The sweaty hand slips and then
A stalk of barley falls to the ground
A head of sustaining kernels
A forgotten sheaf is left behind
The gleaners fan out across the field
As they have done and will do again
Lifting the fallen that are now found
Enacting today the law eternal
Life times lived are here revealed.
Come to the gleaners all you forgotten
Fallen beneath the horizon of mind
Come to the poor, the patient, the kind
In their humble meal you are begotten.
The bride feels suddenly abandoned
Despite the guests and the merriment
Is marriage a guarantee that no more
Loneliness will ever be?
Her heart comes apart fragments
Each one a personality
They pull and tug and want to be free
“Who am I?” she cries unheard
“Is this really love, or is it just to late?
Is it my soul or just my fate?
Who are these selves that break away
Like snowflakes from a windowpane?”
The groom gives her a sip of water
“You look so pale, my love”
But the water has the bitter taste of doubt
Yet, if love’s a lie then doubt’s absurd
And herein lies the magic word
The turns the bitter into sweet.
And this bride in forever’s sun
In Eden’s wedding chamber
Is my mother, and everyone’s
We the fragments of her slumber
Gathered in with the sheaves of spring.
Now we rise and now we sing,
We taste our human wonder
Bound up in the new cut wheat
For this world is palace of windows
Shining with the 50th gate
Narrow the road and thin the gate
The Ambient music poem will now await
Compassionate to those who'll arrive late!